Flowers the Colour of Venom
by Hatheny Lurey Dralaw
Summary: What if . . . Harry Potter was born Iris Potter a girl! A girl version of Harry is now wandering the halls of Hogwarts, and whatEVER shall she get up to . . ? DISCONTINUED.
1. The Sweetness of Elixer

Welcome me back, world. After reading some reviews I had a sudden and irresistible urge to abandon my day job (writing comic books) to my hobby (writing fanfiction). I now intend to update and rewrite every single one of my fanfictions to where I'm much happier with them, and they're actually able to hold up a plot line without collapsing with exhaustion. So, here it is, chapter one, rewritten, Flowers the Colour of Venom. Why the hell did I call it that, anyway? Oh yeah! Nevermind. 

Okay, before we begin, I'd like to warn you that this will be a, although worthwhile, lengthily process. I have school, exams, a day job, a night job, six different email accounts, a fetish for procrastination, a guilty conscience, a whole bunch of Terry Pratchett books, obsessive-compulsive disorder, three bars left on my Toblerone, a Canadian T-shirt, a crush on Northstar and a whole bunch of other stuff that will most likely kill me before it makes me stronger. In summary, updates will be random and hazardous.

Shoot me and I will shoot back. Flame me and I will drag you down to the deepest pits of hell and flame you, because fanfiction is about creativity and creating a whole new world in you own perspective, not getting into hissy fits because someone or something is out of character. All fanfiction is AU, Authors Universe, Alternate Universe, so anything and everything goes, especially your personal opinion, which goes and shoots itself right out the window. But only if it's offensive. Honest, critical opinions get a cosy spot right next to the fire on the rug, and get fed chocolate milk and ice-cream for the rest of their days, until of course they die from gluttony (It's a sin for a reason, you know.).

In summary, don't flame. Well, I suppose you can, but in the long run it matters absolutely less than nothing to me, other than a slight irritation that I've wasted about two seconds of my life that I won't get back wondering why the hell haven't you got anything better to do than type out insults. Also, you idiot flamers take up precious inbox space. I've only got hotmail. It's not like it's the deity among email storage units, you know. Alright, fine. Let's try this again. Flame if you want, but you'll merely be wasting your time. If you'd like to leave something honestly critical, that would happen to be the complete opposite of wasting your time. In fact, I would consider it to be an excellent way to waste your time. I also seem to be making like a brook. On with the fanfiction.

And the answers to all the reviews are on the bottom of the page! There were so many…22… Please know that I do appreciate you all so much (no, really! You're all complete strangers and you like what I've done! That's amazing! I love you all!). And if I don't hurry up this chapter will be all babble and no chapter. Disclaimer, I don't own Harry Potter, but as he's not featured here, I don't have to worry about that! HaHA! Anyway, everybody knows who owns what, so on we go! Please enjoy at my expense!

* * *

**Flowers the Colour of Venom**

Revised edition

**Chapter 1: The Sweetness of Elixir**

In the deepest pits of hell, a.k.a. the Potions dungeon, Iris Potter waited with the other students for the dungeons doors to open and the greasy haired, beak-nosed dragon to draw them in. Standing at around four foot and a half, with thick, jet black hair, Iris' fringe concealed a lightening shaped scar that everyone in the hallway knew about and, by now, in fifth year, ignored. Her skin didn't tan, it stayed pale, and her emerald green eyes light up like the basis for comparison at a joke her friend Ron made about a greasy haired and beak-nosed dragon called Professor Snape, affectionately nicknamed 'git'. As long as you took the meaning of 'affectionately' as 'detestable'. She kept looking over her shoulder, annoyed, because Draco Malfoy was glaring at her again.

She was managing to keep warm by the flaming daggers he was glaring at her. With much ease, she ignored him and continued chatting to her friends and complaining about school.

Unfortunately, by the time the dungeon door was opened the heat from the daggers had worn out and everyone was huddling together for warmth. "Beats me why this place is always so cold." Complained Ron through his chattering teeth. Hermione glanced at him, rolling her eyes. "This is just a guess, Ron, but maybe it has something to do with the _lack _of sunlight, what do you think?"

Ron was spared from answering by the sudden mass of students towards the double doors. Iris frowned with discomfort as everyone squashed together in a rush to get into the slightly warmer, albeit much more depressing interior of the dungeons.What on earth was the hurry? Come on, it was _Potions,_ after all. A few groans from ahead of her signified misfortune and she craned her neck to see what was going on. A sudden shift however in the crowd caused her to stumble sideways and unwittingly towards Malfoy. Unwittingly of course until she crashed head first into his back. They had matching scowls.

"How's the scar, freak?" he muttered under his breath.

"Watch it, Malfoy." She growled, clenching her fist. "If we weren't outside the dungeons, I'd . . "

He suddenly grabbed her wrist and gripped it threateningly. "You'd _what?"_ he muttered. She replied by digging her long nails into the bone of his own wrist. He winced and let go, glaring murderously at her as they were both pushed forward into the dungeons at the same time.

The form of Snape loomed over them. "Potter, Malfoy." He commanded. His arm waved backwards, indicating two seats near the front. "Sit there."

Absolute horror coursed through her, and, hoping her face wasn't showing it, Iris heaved her bag on her back and avoided looking at either Snape or Malfoy. Great, she thought. I'm stuck next to Malfoy. At the top of the classroom. Let something heavy fall from the skies, please gods now. On top of Malfoy. Please.

Snape closed the door with a thud the echoed throughout the entire room. As per usual, no - one breathed.

"These seats," he began. As per usual, there was no welcome. "Will be your seats for the rest of the year."

"What!" exclaimed Ron. He had been paired with Neville.

"5 points for speaking out of turn, Weasley." Continued Snape seamlessly. "As I was saying, these will be your seats for the rest of the year. Those sitting next to you shall be your partners for the year. If any of you have any particular uncomfortable misgivings about your certain partner - "

At this Ron looked hopeful.

"You shall be overruled and denied a change." Ron's face collapsed into dismay. Malfoy was stiffly sitting in his seat, a look of immense disgust portrayed onto his face.

Iris, for once in her life, knew how he felt.

Snape continued without pausing, quite aware of the disgust and disappointment that silently pulsed throughout the dungeon.

"This year, we shall take your schooling up a slight notch, as I'm sure that you have been studying hard all summer." He finished this with a smug glance over the sweating students.

Iris scowled. Snape _knew _that regular students did barely any studying.

Beside her, Draco began to lose tension. He excelled in Potions. It's not like anyone actually knew that, it was just a given. All the Slytherins excelled in potions. Malfoy was a perfectionist when it came to spells. It was the only thing he never let anyone else do for him.

"The potion we will be starting on today is called the Elixer of Influence."

Iris actually sensed Hermione sit up straight and beam smugly. "Can anyone tell me what it does?" asked Snape, his eyes breezing over the students.

If the dungeons weren't already so cold, everyone might have benefited from Hermione's frantically waving hand.

"Weasley?"

Ron was forcibly brought to attention. "Er," he wavered. Snape waited.

"It . . . influences you . . . to do stuff?" He tried. Snape's eyes narrowed to slits.

"5 more points from your house for sardonic behaviour, Weasley."

"Wha - -?"

Malfoy put up his hand and Snape ran over Ron's protests to turn to him.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

He took a breath. "The Elixer of Influence will influence -" Ron was bristling at the word. " – you to act upon whatever is currently the deepest desire in your heart. Even if you aren't aware of your desire, the potion will still have an effect." Hermione gave a weak noise of disappointment.

"Excellent, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points." Snape swooped down to the front of the classroom and gave an indication to the ingredients marked on the blackboard.

"I'll admit it is a rather complicated potion for the beginning of the term, so therefore you must find yourselves incredibly grateful that I find you all - " his face twisted into a malevolent smile. " – _capable._"

A thousand times over, Iris cursed under her breath at Snape. Such a complicated potion, right at the start of the year?

"What else should we expect from that slimeball?" thought Iris, nearly hissing it out loud as the potion, now a grey, gave a loud pop as she added dried rattlesnake skin while Draco stirred.

"Excellent work, Mr. Malfoy. Keep stirring." Complimented Snape. "Potter! Don't dawdle! Malfoy here is doing all the hard work!"

Iris glared at them both, Malfoy, who was grinning, and Snape, who returned the glare.

"Yes, _sir._" She replied through gritted teeth, adding another ingredient.

Great, she thought. I'm stuck with Malfoy as a lab partner and Snape as a teacher. Isn't this the part where my head explodes?

Within 30 minutes the potion was ready (Neville took 35, as he had somehow burnt his way through both his and Ron's cauldron, and had to borrow one from Seamus. Ron did not look like he was in a good mood).

When everything was assembled, Snape took to walk through each row of students and comment on their work.

"Disgraceful, Thomas. Very good, Ms. Parkinson. Detention Weasley, I'll have no such language in my classroom."

He stopped before Iris' cauldron and she tensed herself.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Impeccable. Best I've seen so far. It's good to see that you still are able to make excellent progress despite certain _disadvantages_."

Iris didn't have to guess that that was aimed at her. She could physically feel Hermione bristling, though if it was in her friend's defence or her own indignity at not being chosen for having the best potion, Iris couldn't quite tell.

Snape paused for a moment, thinking something over, before dipping a ladle into the maroon potion and pouring a little into a cup.

This he handed to Malfoy.

Everyone looked surprised, Draco and Iris the most, but Snape merely stood above them with the cup in his hand and a frown in his face.

The silence was now uneasy, threatening to be broken.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Malfoy? Surely if I have trust in your brewing abilities, you should share the same confidence."

At this Draco frowned and took the cup from Snape.

Iris, as well as everyone else, was confused. Why the heck hadn't Snape given _her _the potion? Surely it would have been more of an enjoyment for all the Slytherin's if _she _had embarrassed herself instead of Draco.

Iris almost blushed when she thought about her heart's desire, and she quickly forced it out of her mind.

It was something involving George Weasley.

It was something she'd rather die than reveal to him.

But what could be Draco Malfoy's heart's desire?

Bored at watching him hesitate, her eyes travelled over the excess ingredients on the table. Boomslang skin, Cappa's tongue . . .yeuch. No wonder Malfoy was having misgivings about drinking the potion. Rattle – snake skin, essence de la fairy water, corn crakka . . .

Beside her, Draco took a swig of the potion under the nervous and expectant gaze of his audience.

Imp scales, Venom of Sleeping Willow, knife, chopped holly roots . . .

Draco began to cough, and his hands gripped the edge of the table.

Chopped holly roots . . . wait, no.Rewind.

Chopped holly roots, knife . . .

Draco's body tensed as he fought the potions effect.

Knife.

Knife.

Knife.

Draco.

Knife.

Draco.

Knife.

Draco.

Knife.

Ahhh . . .

Before anyone could react, Draco did. He stopped coughing and his eyes snapped over to Iris as though seeing her for the first time. Except he didn't grab the knife.

He grabbed Iris.

He drew her close until she could see a fire in his eyes. There were cries and yells (and hoots, for some reason) from behind her, but Iris barely heard them, fighting to keep her face calm, not to cry out. The eyes, normally a bored grey, scared her now. She'll be flaked if she'd ever let _him_ know that, though . . . no way.

Draco leaned in. "You . . . " he whispered, his breath flicking the dark hairs of her fringe. His fingers uncomfortably clenched her arms.

"I've been wanting to do this to you for a very long time . . . "

And before anyone could react, he did.

To her eternal surprise, he leaned in and kissed her.

And much to her disgust, she found she liked it.

He was a really good kisser. Of course, why he had to kiss her, no one knew, but their silent audience made no movement to stop it, preferring to stand in shock by the sidelines.

He wasn't trying to choke her with his tongue, but instead opted for a smoother route, caressing her mouth like an experiment. He was being incredibly gentle, as though she was made of fine crystal. Sugar – crystal, of course. Ick. Why was she thinking this stuff?

It lasted about seven seconds before Iris realised who was actually kissing her and where.

She broke away roughly, swiftly coming to her senses. He stared at with grey eyes, his face flushed and his breath slightly ragged. She stood very still, almost frozen except for her chest which rose and fell in short breaths. He gave her an odd look and instead of answering him, she slapped him as hard as he had kissed her.

Pushing him aside, Iris ran out of the dungeons as though the next guy that might want to kiss her was Snape.

The dungeon door slowly creaked itself closed while the entire classroom turned from the door to stare at Draco. No one said a word – no one dared to.

Draco's eyes stared at nothing; then, as though realising he had an audience, he cried out and spat on the floor. He grabbed his bag, and, with a burning face, sprinted out the doors.

Once again the door slowly creaked closed. Not even Snape or Pansy Parkinson had a comment. Nothing and no one moved or made a sound.

The silence was so great that you could hear a pin drop.

Or a snigger echo.

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Okie doke. There's the first rewrite. You'll notice, those of you who are reading this for the second time, that I changed barely anything. That's kind of how rewrites work…you either change a lot, a little, or nothing at all. But I'm satisfied with the chapter now (almost), so okie dokie then. Okay, here are the answers to reviews you've all probably forgotten you've sent by now….

**Talons: **I'm honoured that you added me, and I'm sorry I haven't updated. I hope you'll enjoy the rewrite. See you around Xx

**Shadowface:** You reviewed every chapter, you're so sweet! Well, I've updated, so … sorry. I hope you haven't given up on my fancfic! Thank you so much for your reviews, you brought out the guilty conscience in me that convinced me that sooner or later I would eventually have to update! Xx

**Ananamusforananamus'sake:** Lol, cool name. Thanks for your question, and, in answer, no, Lee Williams isn't an OC, I got it wrong. There's a guy I know called Lee Williams, and I get really confused between Jordan and Williams…but thanks for pointing that out, I'm fixing that as we speak. Thanks for your review. Xx

**Jenn:** Taa-daa, I've sort of updated. I can't keep a quick promise, but I can keep a promise that evolves over time? Meaning, the updates might not be fast, but they will most definitely happen. Thanks for reviewing. Xx

**Sweet-Charmed-Angle:** Lol, there will be many unusual things about this ficlet…you may get your pairing, you may not…who knows…well, I do, but then again, that's half the fun…okay, stopping now. Thanks for your review. Xx

**Mac:** Thanks for saying it's interesting! And yes, many, many triangles, and many, many more to come… ;) Thanks for reviewing! Xx

**T:** Ick. No way. They're not eleven. I thought I mentioned that in the previous disclaimer – this takes place in an alternate reality 4th year. So they're 15 or 16. Ick. No way they're eleven. Anyway, thanks for reviewing. Xx

**Arica, Princess of Rivendell:** Your wish is my command, milady. Thanks for reviewing. Xx

**Serb-Maco:** I stopped the story because my life sucks. It keeps distracting me from my computer. But, here I am again, and hopefully I won't be going anywhere too quickly! Thanks for reviewing. Xx

And, there we go. All the reviewers I think have been taken care of. If I've forgotten anyone, please, just say. And if you have any questions, just drop a line. You can leave it in a review, or email me personally (I always reply). Thanks for bearing with me, watch this space, folks.

Over and out,

Xx Hatheny -;-


	2. Freckles to Kiss

Disclaimer: Again, as we all know, no – one owns HP except J. K. Rowling. I personally don't think that's very fair, she shouldn't get all those characters to herself, should she? I certainly don't own HP, but someday, by freak genetic occurrence, I shall be proclaimed Queen of the Universe and then I can own whatever I like. Unfortunately, that's in the far – off future and I have no access to the book/movie/character rights, so I will just have to make do with these insignificant figments of my imagination. Iris: That hurt, you know. Hatheny: Oh, go and learn your lines, She – Potter. Iris: ( / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / (I do most sincerely apologise; I spelt 'Weasley' wrong in the first chapter. Forgive me, Ron, George, Fred, Ginny, Bill, Charlie, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley! Not Percy, though. I don't like him. He thinks Harry is crazy. Harry isn't crazy. In fact, Percy is actually the crazy one – he's crazy for believing all those crazy lies that the crazy newspaper has told about crazy Harry. But Harry isn't crazy. Fish are crazy. Crazy fish. Crazy monkeys. Crazy fish monkeys. No, crazy sea – monkeys. Crazy.)  
  
Chap. 3 ~ Freckles to Kiss  
  
"Iris, come out." "No!" "Iris . . . " "NO!!"  
  
Hermione sighed and threw her hands above her bushy head.  
  
"Oh, Iris, it's not that bad . . . " "Did Draco Malfoy kiss you?" "Well, no . . . " "Then shut up!"  
  
This time Hermione's sigh was of impatience. She clicked her tongue in frustration. "Iris, it really isn't that bad, most of the class wasn't even looking at you, and I'm sure that those who were looking probably didn't even see him use his tongue . . . "  
  
Iris gave a howl of anguish.  
  
"Probably?!?!"  
  
Hermione slammed her fist against the door in mounting frustration.  
  
"Look, you take your time in there Iris," she called through the door. "Once you've flushed your way back to reality, you'll find me in the Great Hall. I'm starved." She added under her breath, shouldering her bag and leaving the bathroom to Iris and silence.  
  
Tiny moaning was heard, though not from Moaning Myrtle this time (she was upstairs, spying on prefects.).  
  
About ten minutes later a green door was slowly opened an inch and a black head of hair with emerald eyes accompaniment cautiously edged their way out the door to check that no – one was there. Getting the all – clear from the silence she edged her whole body out of the cubicle.  
  
The blush of humiliation had receded and with a deep breath she felt ready enough to face the outside world and all its laughter.  
  
However, the outside world obviously seemed to like her red face better than her pale one, for as soon as she walked out of the bathroom she bumped into the one and only George Weasley.  
  
"Sor – ee!" gasped Iris. Much to the delight of the outside world, the blush returned. Funnily enough, George seemed just as awkward.  
  
And since he and his twin were renowned by their amazing ability to laugh – or more accurately, plant dungbombs – in the face of danger, this was very much a private surprise to Iris.  
  
"Err . . . " George seemed to have forgotten what he was going to say – or maybe he was in debate about saying it.  
  
"George, what are you doing outside the girls bathrooms?" Iris blurted out.  
  
"Well, I heard this crazy rumour . . . "  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Is it . . . "  
  
"What?"  
  
"True?"  
  
"What is?"  
  
"The rumour!"  
  
"What rumour?"  
  
"Iris . . . "  
  
"I'm serious! There are lots of rumours floating around. That's what you get when you go to a school. Or anywhere, I suppose."  
  
"Iris, I'm talking about the crazy rumour about you!"  
  
"I don't know anything about any monkeys, George, I swear."  
  
"Monkeys? Does that have anything to do with the Olympic turtles?"  
  
"No, that's Ron."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Well, I gotta' go to lunch."  
  
"Okay. No, wait! You didn't answer my question about the monkeys - - I mean about the other rumour!"  
  
Iris paused. "You didn't specify which rumour, George."  
  
"Iris, I'm the one that makes the jokes, not you!" he cried out, exasperated. "It's the rumour about you, Draco Malfoy, and the potions class before lunch!"  
  
Again, Iris paused. "Err . . . " She fidgeted with the edge of her robes. "It isn't a rumour."  
  
He gave her an odd look.  
  
"If it isn't a rumour, how else would I have heard of it?" he asked her in a quizzical voice, crossing his arms.  
  
Iris let out a low sigh. "At least now I know where Ron and Ginny get it from." She muttered.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked George indignantly. "Fred and I have a franchise going, Iris! Ron and Ginny can't just steal our humour, that's just not . . . "  
  
"Humorous?" suggested Iris innocently.  
  
"What did I say about the jokes, Iris?" Said George rather sternly. He paused. "You've gotten me off the subject again!" he exclaimed while Iris beamed. "How do you do that? No. Tell me later. Just tell me, straight and clear, what you meant when you said it wasn't a rumour."  
  
Iris bit her lip. "Well . . . I guess I meant that it wasn't a rumour, George." She regarded him with sudden confusion.  
  
"Why are you so desperate for information all of a sudden? You could have just asked Hermione or Ron. And shouldn't you be making a joke about this at the Gryffindor table by now?"  
  
"No, Fred is covering me. It's just . . . did you like it?"  
  
"The kiss?" "What else?"  
  
"Uh . . . "  
  
"Oh, okay."  
  
"No! George, it was just . . . it took me by surprise that's all."  
  
"So you didn't enjoy it."  
  
"Well, I dunno . . . he is a good kisser, George."  
  
"I did not need to know that. I did not need to know that."  
  
Iris laughed. "Well, neither does anyone else, okay?"  
  
George contemplated it for a moment. "Are you a good speller?" he asked, a look on his face that Iris didn't like.  
  
"Yes . . . " she replied cautiously. "Why?"  
  
"I need you to spell out 'blackmail'."  
  
"Oh, no."  
  
"Does it have a double 'ha, ha' in the middle, or is that 'sucker?'"  
  
"I told you that in confidence, George!"  
  
"You, never tell me anything in confidence, Iris. Never ever."  
  
"If you tell anyone, George . . . "  
  
"What, you'll kiss me?"  
  
He meant it as a joke, but Iris hesitated. He looked surprised as the revelation dawned.  
  
Timidly, Iris said, "George . . . are you breathing?"  
  
"Nope." Came his answer.  
  
She paused. "Well that's not good, you have to breathe. C'mon, in, out, in, out – "  
  
George leaned down and kissed her.  
  
"In." he whispered, breaking away. Iris looked as the she had gone into shock.  
  
"I think I missed that, could you say it again?" she asked in a very quiet voice. He was so close, she could count every freckle, she could kiss every freckle.  
  
He gave her a smile; different from the ones he normally gave, softer, a smile for her only.  
  
"Listen closely," he told her, and he pressed his lips against hers for the second time.  
  
Iris' heart thudded against her ribs. George was kissing her!  
  
Oh, wow.  
  
Her fingers went to his freckled cheek when they finally broke apart.  
  
George's face flushed.  
  
Iris smiled. "George, she said very quietly.  
  
"Mm?"  
  
One hand was holding hers; the other was on her arm.  
  
"George, are you a good speller?"  
  
"Oh, no . . . "  
  
"Oh, yes." She grinned, taking his other hand. "Spell . . . "  
  
"Iris, have mercy!"  
  
"Mercy? Mwhahahaha!"  
  
"Y'know, if I have stuff on you, and you have stuff on me, then maybe we could make a compromise?"  
  
"And pray tell, what is it I have on you?"  
  
"If Fred finds out that I actually fancy someone . . . wait, you didn't have anything on me?"  
  
"No, I didn't. Now I do."  
  
"Oh, please. Please."  
  
"Spell . . . Slave of the Century?" Iris suggested.  
  
"Thou art a cruel fairywitch, Iris," he growled.  
  
She laughed. "You should never talk again, George. Now I know you quote old English."  
  
He paused. "And I never will again." He solemnly promised, putting his hand over his heart.  
  
"And you know that compromise we were talking about yesteryear?" she asked, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers.  
  
"Yes?" he asked hopefully, lightly putting his arms around her waist. She liked how that felt.  
  
"We – ell," she said, tracing his Gryffidor emblem with her finger. "How's about if both of us keep our mouths shut, and in return we get lots of these." And she leaned in and lightly kissed him.  
  
He pretended to think it over.  
  
"Seems fair," he agreed, leaning in for another kiss.  
  
"Aagh!" yelled a voice.  
  
Iris broke away from the kiss to see who had yelled.  
  
It was Ron, who was looking quite pale and had a hand over his mouth.  
  
"I saw nothing." He stated, backing away and looking very freaked.  
  
"Actually, I think you saw quite a lot, young Ronniekins." Contradicted George, cuddling Iris against his chest for extra effect.  
  
Without further ado, Ron bolted towards the men's bathrooms.  
  
Iris laughed. "Yep, it's official. He's traumatised."  
  
George joined in. "Absolutely." He paused, then pulled her in the direction of the Great Hall.  
  
"Do you think milady could snatch an hour away from her busy schedule to luncheon?" he asked in mock superior tones.  
  
She tilted her nose in the air.  
  
"One will see what she may do." She told him, imitating his tones.  
  
Laughing, they walked up towards the Great Hall.  
  
The corridor was left in silence, until a thunking noise interrupted it.  
  
The noise came from Draco Malfoy, on the other side of the corner, knocking his head softly against the wall and cursing himself for his stupidity.  
  
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /  
  
What do y'all think? Please R&R! 


	3. Ron's 'Problem'

Me'sa sorries for not'a posting'a sooner.  
  
Muir: LOOK, I'VE WRITTEN MORE!!!!  
  
Phoenix Ruisse: Muchas thanko's for reviewing! (I have rewritten a chapter in the foolscap, if you want to see that, but I'll only give to you when you update YOUR fanfiction.)  
  
The Counter: Ooookaaay . . . how is it I may be of service to thee, Counter? I'm afraid I have more of a tolerance for reading fanfictions than I have for counting the average number of words.  
  
And I can't remember if anyone else has reviewed. I don't think anyone else has.  
  
*silence*  
  
Anyone?  
  
*more silence*  
  
. . . . . . . . ( Um . . . okay . . . . Well . . . I'll just have to write more then . . . even if no – body cares . . . . *sniff*  
  
Azalea: You're pathetic. *sighs* Okay, I'll disclaim. Hatheny doesn't own Harry Potter or anything relevant to Harry Potter that is present in her fiction. Oh, would you stop crying, Dralaw?! Anyway, she only owns her own characters and her own plot, wherever that may be . . .  
  
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /  
  
Chapter 3: Ron's 'Problem'  
  
"Hey, Potter!"  
  
Iris looked over her shoulder to see Angelina making a bee – line towards her.  
  
"Oh, good, you're here too, Fred."  
  
"George."  
  
"Whatever." Angelina waved away her mistake. "Spread the news to the others, Quidditch practice tonight at eight. Don't be late, right?"  
  
Iris and George nodded. With a flick of her hair, Angelina made her way back towards her seat. Hermione came over and sat beside them.  
  
"Hey Iris, George," she greeted them wearily, pulling a platter of steak – and – kidney pie towards her.  
  
George glanced at Iris and then at Hermione. "You should really eat before you go to the library, Hermione. There's this crackpot at the Department of Health saying that eating actually boosts energy levels."  
  
Hermione gave him a withering glance. "Yes, I'm very aware of that Fr-"  
  
"George."  
  
"Whatever. As a matter of fact I was looking up Arithmancy Tables and it turns out that our 'advanced' tables are slightly inaccurate – "  
  
George made a slight noise and hid his head behind Iris' back.  
  
"Now you've done it." She muttered to him.  
  
"Apologises." Replied George meekly, just as Ron appeared and sat down beside Hermione. Then, as though on a second thought, he switched places and sat beside George instead, now two seats farther from the ranting Hermione.  
  
He observed George's closeness to Iris for a moment before turning to his own plate of food.  
  
"Hey, Ron – man." Said George. "What's up?"  
  
Ron fixed them both with a glare before answering. "No way."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You two can't like each other!!"  
  
Iris was confused; George was looking indignant.  
  
"I'll like whoever I want to like, Ron!" answered George hotly.  
  
Iris put her hand over his in an attempt to calm him. "Look, Ron, what's the problem?" she asked, scooting her chair closer.  
  
Ron seemed to be struggling with himself.  
  
"It's just . . . weird." He admitted, his eyes on his plate. "My brother and my best friend. It's weird. You're just supposed to be friends as well. You can't expect me just to accept this!!"  
  
"What?!" exclaimed George. "What's your problem, man?!?! There's nothing wrong with me and Iris being together!!"  
  
"Iris and I." Interjected Hermione very quietly, only Iris heard her.  
  
"What the hell is your problem?!" demanded George again.  
  
"Ron . . ." Iris was utterly confused. Why the hell should Ron have a problem with George and her being together?  
  
Ron looked up. "Look . . ." he said in a low voice. "Let's take this outside, okay? I'm sure everyone is eavesdropping on this."  
  
The people surrounding them started eating and talking again.  
  
Iris and Hermione rolled their eyes and followed Ron and George out of the Hall.  
  
"Now, Ron," began George very calmly once they were outside. "I'm not prone to beating up relatives – "  
  
"Nobody's beating up anyone!" interrupted Iris quickly. "Ron, just tell me – us – what's the matter with George and I liking each other?"  
  
Ron shrugged his shoulders. "It just doesn't feel right." He muttered. "How about you ask Hermione, she's really good at sorting out other people's emotions!"  
  
George and Iris looked over at Hermione.  
  
"Er . . ." Hermione chewed her lip. "Well, I think it's pretty obvious . . ."  
  
"Of course you do." Replied George with a sort of calm impatience. "That's because you are very clever. Now would you diagnose Ron already!"  
  
"Uhm . . . okay . . . well, Ron thinks you're kind of annoying, George, but he still loves you as a brother. Iris, you're his best friend and he likes to think of you as a part – time sister. Uhm . . . I guess that although, deep inside him he's wanted you to both be happy, but he's just never thought about how it would be if you two were happy together."  
  
"Ron, you little bugger!" exclaimed George. "You're acting as though Iris and I have just declared our eternal love for one another and are making out in your bed! We've only just figured out we 'like' each other today! You do like me, of course?" he added to Iris.  
  
Iris nodded.  
  
"Well, brilliant!"  
  
Ron turned red. "I caught you kissing in the hall!" he snapped. "So excuse me for freaking out!"  
  
Hermione clapped her hands for order.  
  
"Look, Ron, Iris and George like each other, whether you like it or not! Iris and George, you have to think about how other people might react to you kissing in the halls!! Am I clear? Good! Now come on! We still have time for dessert." And with that she marched away.  
  
They all stared at her retreating figure.  
  
"Well, you choose interesting friends, Ron," commented George, settling his arm around Iris' shoulders. She leaned into him. He kissed the top of her head. "Lunch is almost over. C'mon."  
  
Chewing her lip, Iris glanced over to Ron, who shrugged his shoulders.  
  
Okay, let's go," she said, wrapping an arm comfortably around his waist. Ron walked ahead of them.  
  
Iris gave a slight sigh. She was glad that George liked her, but why would Ron have such a problem with it? She could ask him about it later.  
  
With George's arm around her, she made her way to the Common room to collect her bag and rush to her classes.  
  
Unbeknown to her, grey eyes followed her as far as the hall; the eyes of Draco Malfoy.  
  
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /  
  
PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!! I WROTE MORE PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!!  
  
Azalea: They can't hear you, Hatheny, no – one can, because no – one is reading.  
  
Hatheny: Shut up.  
  
Azalea: *rolls eyes* Don't flame, R&R. Hey! Maybe that's why no – one is reviewing! Because all they want to do is flame and you won't let them!!!!! Hahahahahaha! Ha!  
  
Hatheny: SHUT UP!!!!! R&R, please, pretty please. 


	4. Hogsmeade

Thanxes to my reviewers! Wow, I actually have reviewers. Thanxes, and sorry that I haven't updated in a (long) while, but I've had exams AND I've been away at my aunt's house. I haven't even SEEN a friggin computer for the past week . . . oh, gracious, beautiful keyboard . . . how I love thee . . .  
  
Anyway, like you reviewers actually care about excuses! All you want to see is the fanfiction!! (Then why the hell are you still reading this?) So here it is!  
  
Right after the disclaimer.  
  
**Disclaimer:** I don't bloody own Harry Potter. Technically I own the character Iris because she has replaced Harry, but who the hell cares about the complications anyway.  
  
Story Time!!! Yay!!!  
  
(P.S. I am really, really, REALLY, REALLY, sorry about the abnormally long delay. I have no excuses except for the bruises my writer's block gave me. That and my other fanfiction. Anyways, I'm really sorry.)  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
**Chapter 4:** **_Hogsmeade  
_**  
It was raining.  
  
Damn. Today was Hogsmeade.  
  
And George had asked her, Iris, to come!  
  
Sure, Ron, Hermione, Fred and Ginny were going to be there, but who cared about the complications?  
  
_He_ had asked _her_ to go to Hogsmeade!  
  
Any other day, Iris might have considered the rain an omen. Today it meant that she might be able to get a cosy table inside the Three Broomsticks with George. Ha ha. Yes, today was going to be good.  
  
"Hermione, help!" she called out, tossing aside her sweater desperately as her friend walked into the room.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Iris inhaled. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but . . . I have nothing to wear!"  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow incredulously at a blushing Iris. "We're just going to Hogsmeade, Iris." She informed her blushing friend.  
  
"I know, but . . ." She sighed.  
  
Hermione shook her head, but grinned. "All right, all right. Calm down. I'll help you out. But I think George will like you anyway."  
  
"I know, but I'll feel better if I don't have to wear Ron's maroon sweater just because I'm cold. Can I borrow that green knitted one you have? _Pleeease?"  
_  
Hermione looked pained, but she handed the sweater over to a delighted Iris. "I was going to wear that today." She pouted. Iris smiled as she pulled the green knit over her head.  
  
"I _know,_ but you love me! I'm your bestest best friend." She grinned straightening her long hair. "And it's not my fault all my clothes are boyish hand-me-downs. Not to mention several sizes too big."  
  
"If it's any consolation, I don't think that George thinks that they make you look several sizes too big."  
  
"Oh, let's just go . . ."  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
"Great Caesar's ghost! It's freezing!!!" Exclaimed Fred, rubbing his hands together. "Maybe we should call in a raincheck to our excursion, brother."  
  
"Perhaps . . ." mulled George, blowing into his hands as he watched the rain. "Maybe it would be a good idea if we – – oh look! It's raining. We'd better call in that raincheck, Fred."  
  
His brother grinned slyly at him, a look that George pretended to ignore. Finally he could resist no longer.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The reason that you want to go to Hogsmeade on a miserable day like this," began Fred, watching George's reaction very carefully. "Is because – and I'm just groping in the dark here – you want to go with Iris. Am I correct? I shall be taking any form of sound or movement from your person as a yes, by the way," he added before George could deny his not-so-wild allegations.  
  
There was a pause, and then George shrugged.  
  
Fred shook his head, smiling slightly. "My brother, you have no idea just how _bad_ you have got it with this girl."  
  
George looked at him, for once confused about what his brother was saying. "What? I've got it bad with Iris? What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Fred shook his head, mock mournfully. "Ahh . . . he can't even recognise the signs . . ." he sighed to no one before turning to George. "It's been about, say, two months since your not-so-secret rendezvous outside the bathrooms. Can you not see that some of your behavioural patterns have changed since then? No?" Again the mop of red hair shook from side to side. "Then it's a very good thing you have me to kick you in the ass and bring you to attention, my friend. I'm sure you're aware of the fact that whenever your eye's glaze over that's a sure sign that you're thinking of Iris. And now, listen carefully, for I have some very good advice for you now." He paused dramatically.  
  
"Ask. Her. _Out."_  
  
George's head snapped to Fred's direction. "What?!"  
  
"You guys are playing this stupid game, mate! Ask her out on a proper date! I can get our dormitory room clear for the night or something and you guys can hang out there, or maybe you can make arrangements for the next Hogsmeade trip – "  
  
"You're a flipping _lunatic._ I can't just _ask her out!"  
_  
"Why the hell not?"  
  
"Because . . . aagh, I just can't!"  
  
"You're an idiot."  
  
"Gimme a break." Sighed George, turning away. Fred grabbed at his arm.  
  
"I'm serious, mate! I heard Lee Williams talking, not to mention that guy – what's his name – from Hufflepuff, Ernie! They think she's hot!"  
  
"They _what?!"_  
  
Fred nodded wisely. "Okay, now if that's not a sure sign that you like her a lot, then I don't know what is. You're getting all defensive–wensive, dearest." He told his reddening twin. "Ask her out before a bigger prat has the chance!"  
  
George looked away from his brother face at that moment and switched his gaze to the ground. "I – I can't . . ." he mumbled. "What if I screw up? Yeah, okay, I like her. That's why I'm not asking her out! I'll just screw things up and we'll never be able to be friends again!"  
  
Fred's mouth had dropped to the ground. "Well, we always _did_ say that we'd defy and rupture all logic . . ." he muttered.  
  
There was a short silence.  
  
"Okay, how's this. What if I ask her out?" offered Fred.  
  
George's head snapped up for the second time.  
  
**_"What?!"_**  
  
"Well, c'mon, hear me out, George ol' buddy!" reasoned Fred, holding up both hands defensively. "If I ask her out, she'll think I'm you and therefore technically you'll be the one that asked her out and since I don't like her like that, I won't botch things up! How does that sound?"  
  
"Really stupid."  
  
"Yet it's the perfect answer to all our problems!! Well your problems." He paused for a moment. "Well . . . maybe not all your problems . . ." He paused again. "You've got a lot of problems . . ."  
  
George exhaled, ignoring that last statement. "No." He said, staring at the ground. "I might as well sink like a man . . . fine. I'll ask her out. But Fred? Do one thing for me, man." He turned now to a triumphant Fred.  
  
"Yes, brother dearest?"  
  
"Get me some of those nine-month-old stink pellets, okay? From under Lee's bed?"  
  
Fred's eyebrows shot to his fringe. "But . . . George, if those things aren't moved with much care, then they're as good as knockout gas! Or more dramatically, poison!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Gee, Fred," replied George with much sarcasm. "Duh, much?"  
  
"Hey, what are you two conspiring?" Hermione's voice sounded throughout the courtyard. Both Fred and George snapped to attention.  
  
"Nothing, dearest friend of a friend." He replied in a sickly sweet voice, dragging George over to where Ron, Hermione and a reddening Iris were standing.  
  
"Uh, hey guys. Uh, hey Iris." Coughed George. Fred rolled his eyes. "And once upon a time I thought that immaturity wasn't such a bad thing . . ." He muttered.  
  
"What?" asked Ron.  
  
"I said 'are you ready to go?'"  
  
"Didn't sound like –"  
  
"Yes, whatever. Come along, kiddies. Zonko is calling. In twenty-four different languages, I might add . . ."  
  
%%%%%%%%%  
  
Iris looked up at the sky. Oh, thank goodness! The rain had almost stopped. It was still rather cold, though, and she wished that Hermione had a jacket to spare . . .  
  
"Hey, you cold?"  
  
Iris looked over her shoulder. George had spoken, and he looked rather red, though that was probably just the cold as well.  
  
She nodded sheepishly and grinned. "Yeah." She answered, hugging herself slightly. "I should really get a coat . . ."  
  
George paused for a moment, chewing his lip, before his face broke out into a huge grin. He unzipped his coat and opened out one side, wrapping her close to him. Iris blushed.  
  
Oh boy, oh _boy . . ._  
  
"This warm enough?" George's breath was close to her ear, and he nudged some of her black hair away. Damn, he wanted to kiss that ear. Right at the tip, where her hair had settled . . .  
  
"Yeah . . ." She answered. "Well . . . it's getting there . . ."  
  
She could almost imagine him grinning. Well, she didn't actually _have_ to imagine him grinning, because she could see Fred, and he was splitting his sides with contained laughter, looking straight at them . . .  
  
Uh, okay. What was that about?  
  
She felt George give a sharp movement and then saw Fred mime mortification, before laughing and waving them away. She looked up at George. "Uh, what was –"  
  
"Eh, nothing. Youwannagowanderaround?"  
  
"Eh, do I want to what . . ?"  
  
"Uh, y'know . . . wander around. Y'know, like to the Three Broomsticks or the Shrieking Shack . . ." He frowned. "But of course, you've seen those already . . ." he muttered.  
  
Iris' stomach took an involuntary leap. Taking a breath, she slid an arm around his waist and smiled. "Actually, I didn't really get a close look at the Shrieking Shack . . ."  
  
George grinned. "Okay, cool! Let's go!"  
  
At that moment, they were both thinking the same thing:  
  
The Shrieking Shack will be deserted! Nobody will be there except us . . .  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
"So, yep. That's the Shrieking Shack."  
  
Iris peered in one of the dirty windows. She could almost see through . . . maybe this was the room where she had first met Sirius . . .  
  
"Nothing much to see here, sorry." apologised George, coming up beside her. There was a pause, and he made a slight movement with his arm. Iris grinned, still staring through the window.  
  
"It's okay," she told him, pulling back from the window. Then she put her arm around George's waist, which seemed to startle him. She smiled up at him.  
  
_Please kiss me, George . . .  
_  
He leaned down to her . . . so close . . .  
  
"Good _God._ The inbreds are turning historical sites into breeding grounds." Said a voice. Iris jerked back and looked towards that familiar voice –  
  
Draco Malfoy.  
  
"I really don't suppose I should expect anything less or more from a Weasley, though. Or from those who associate with them." He finished, leaning casually against the fence, watching them carefully. No . . . watching her.  
  
"What d'you want now, Malfoy?" she snapped, exasperated. Aagh, they had been _this_ close before Malfoy showed up and _ruined_ it all . . .  
  
George gripped her arm protectively. "It's not like we asked your opinion, Malfoy." He snapped. "Just get lost."  
  
Malfoy regarded them both coolly. "I don't see why I should, Weasley," he told them both, examining cuff of his black glove. "After all this is a public attraction." He looked up. "Much like Ms. Potter, there." He said very softly. "I'm glad to see that the ridiculous race between certain other houses for her affection has finally ended. Needless to say, none of Slytherin's students participated. And neither of you need look so confused, it was rather obvious to all outside your little bubble that Potter here is quite popular among the lesser, much more desperate males in the school." He added.  
  
Eh?  
  
"Okay, whatever. Just beat it. You don't really want to see the Shack, you just want to bug us." George said, his hand still on Iris' arm.  
  
Malfoy looked as though he were minimally amused at that. "Yes, and it's working, isn't it?" he commented, smirking as he did so.  
  
George took a step forward, but Iris tugged on his arm. She didn't want him to get in trouble by beating up Malfoy . . . even though she _did_ feel like punching him in that smarmy, cocky, pale face of his . . .  
  
"Actually, I was hoping for a chat with Potter, but I see now that it would be practically impossible to unglue you from her, eh, Weasley?" he smirked.  
  
Iris frowned. "Why the hell would you want to talk to me?" she asked.  
  
Malfoy immediately switched his attention from George to her, and they both noticed it.  
  
"I wanted to ask you about that mind-fuck of a kiss we shared around two months ago. You must remember it, I doubt anyone would have let you forget."  
  
Iris went stiff, and then loosened George's fingers from her arm before walking up to Malfoy. Not too close though . . . she stopped and then crossed her arms, watching him carefully. He was still relaxed against the fence, a long black coat draped around his lean form. His blonde fringe had a few strands flicked over his cold eyes, and these eyes watched her.  
  
"What the hell could you possibly want to know about that?" she asked him quietly. He didn't move for a moment, in fact he froze. Then he moved all too quickly, and he was right in front of her, far too close . . . He brushed a gloved hand against her face, moving hair whose colour matched his glove away from her face.  
  
"I was wondering . . . if you might possibly want another one . . ."  
  
What. The. _Fuck?  
_  
She was suddenly jerked backwards and she heard a thud. Malfoy had been knocked to the ground, and was now holding the fingers of his left hand against his lip. He glared venomously at George, but he couldn't speak just yet.  
  
"Just stay the _fuck_ away from Iris, you bastard." Snarled George with uncharacteristic anger. Iris stared at him, shocked.  
  
George . . ?  
  
He tugged her down the rough track, back towards Hogsmeade. "C'mon," he muttered. "Let's get back to the others . . ."  
  
Iris let herself be dragged away, rather stunned. Then she looked back at Malfoy, who was still on the ground.  
  
He had not stopped watching her, and when he saw her looking back, she knew that he had smiled, even though she couldn't see him properly.  
  
He lifted his left hand and slowly spread out his fingers in a farewell gesture.  
  
Iris was quick to look away.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
Taa-daa! Again I apologise for the inexcusably long delay, I've just had a lot on my plate and . . . stuff . . . anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Chapter five will be a little slow, because I'm going away with relatives, but don't worry, the update will most certainly NOT take as long as this!!! Again, I'm SO sorry, and I hope that this chapter is all right!!!  
  
LoL,  
  
Hatheny 


	5. The inbetween part

aand here I am again!

Taa-daa! Yes, it is true . . . somehow I have been born again with a new writing frenzy . . .

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter =insert waffling here=

There. Now that that's done with . . .

**Nadin:** Well, aren't you wonderful. Look what your little review produced! About Ron . . . well, here's a little something for you . . . it probably won't do anything for ya', but here it is!! Chapter Five!! Thanks again!!!

**Lexie the Dreamer:** Thank you! I again apologise for the long delay . . . but I hope you like this chapter!

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

**Chapter 5: **The in-between part . . .

_This is the chapter where we find out what everyone else was doing when George and Iris were alone (relatively speaking of course, seeing as Draco was there . . .) Anyway, here (hopefully) we shall be having a little chattie with dear old Ronniekins . . . Off we go! _

"What d'you think? Ron? Which quill?" Hermione waved the feathers in front of his face. "Hello? Oh, you're useless." She put both quills down (much to the dismay of the shopkeeper) and tugged at his sweater. "Let's just go. We're going to have a little chattie, young Ronniekins. Something is _obviously_ on your mind."

At this, Ron snapped uncomfortably to attention. "Wha – no. We don't need to talk about anything!"

Hermione snorted.

"Hey, where you guys going?" called Ginny.

"Three Broomsticks." Replied Hermione. "Actually Ginny, would you mind coming? We – I – could use your help."

She shrugged and waved goodbye to Fred.

"What's up?" she asked as the made their way outside and towards the bar.

"Nothing." Was Ron's immediate response. Ginny was confused to find him struggling in one of Hermione's vice-grips.

"Nothing yet." Interjected Hermione in an oddly grim tone as she tightened her grip.

"Whatever you say . . ." sighed Ginny as she opened the door to the Three Broomsticks.

%%%%%%%%%%%%

Hermione slammed a bottle of Butterbeer in front of Ron. "Talk, buster." She told him, taking a seat opposite. He looked startled.

"Err . . ."

"We know something's up." Interrupted Ginny through his confusion. She paused, then leaned over to Hermione. "Uh, there _is_ something up, right?" she whispered.

Hermione nodded.

"Then talk, Ron! What's up?"

"I have _no idea_ what _either_ of you are talking about."

"You –" and Hermione pointed a finger at him. "Have been in a . . . funk since you saw Iris and George kissing. Which was almost _two months ago._ What's the matter? Is there something you don't like about that?"

The look on Ron's face told her that she had struck a chord.

"You're totally see-through Ron, so don't bother trying to hide anything." Added Ginny.

Ron looked down into his Butterbeer and found himself unable to answer.

%%%%%%%%%%%

"So, hold on." Lee Williams paused. "You're tellin' me, that George, your brother, George Weasley, practically _family_ to our subject, is about to ask her out on a _date."_

"Yep."

"Bloody kidding me, mate."

"I am not."

"Well." Lee paused and surveyed the disappointed and shell-shocked faces of the small group of boys surrounding Fred. "Wouldn't have seen that one coming."

"Tell me about it!" said a Ravenclaw student. "Damn, I was gonna do that!"

Lee laughed. "She doesn't even know who you are, Adam!"

"I know, I know, but . . !"

Similar murmurs spread throughout the group and Fred looked on with no small pleasure. Ha ha. Chaos rules. Mwha-ha. "So, boys. I'm afraid that you're all too late. I _shall_ be closing all bets by the way, so pay up please." He added. "Thank _you_, thank _you_, oh _my_ . . ."

Heh heh heh. See? This whole Iris-George-Betting triangle was just a win-win situation . . .

%%%%%%%%%%%

"So . . . are we going to have to beat it out of you, or what, Ron?" Ginny and Hermione tapped their nails impatiently on the hard wood of the table in sync. Ron was looking more uncomfortable by the second.

"Look . . . you guys . . ."

Ginny gasped.

"You like her, don't you?!"

Hermione clapped her hands with delight. "Yes! Oh God, Ginny, you _genius!!!_ That's it!" she exclaimed before turning to Ron and fixing him with a disapproving stare. "Why didn't you tell us, you stupid mog? We might have been able to help!"

Ron slumped back in his chair and crossed his arms tightly around his chest. "Help what? You people are total nut jobs. I don't like Iris!" He paused. "No, wait . . . I mean I like her, she's my friend, I just don't like her that _way._ Understood?"

Ginny and Hermione both wore identical looks of incredulity on their faces.

"Then why did you blow up at them both for kissing?" asked Hermione in a very smart voice.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "He blew up at them?"

Hermione nodded.

"Wow, Ron. You. Muppet."

"Stop that!" snapped Ron. "I just freaked out a little!"

"Because you like her."

"No!"

"Of course not, dear." Giggled Ginny, and exchanged a look with Hermione.

Ron growled and snatched up his bottle of Butterbeer before remembering that it was empty. Instead, he just gripped the neck of the bottle. We may assume that in his mind, the necks of Hermione and Ginny were in the place of the glass.

"Look, even if I did fancy Iris, which I do_ not,_ she likes George. My brother. And she sees me as a friend, never anything else, all right? So just drop it, you two. I don't fancy her." He plopped the empty bottle on the table and stared at it for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

He exhaled.

"You know what . . . I could do with another one of those."

Hermione and Ginny exchanged another look before Hermione nodded and stood up to get another round from the barkeeper, stopping once to pat Ron shoulder gently as she left. Ron did not respond.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"My, my. Sixty-four Galleons, twelve Sickles, twenty-four Knuts. I should bet on family more often." Fred whistled to himself and smiled with satisfaction while a pissed-off looking Lee Williams trailed behind.

"I still can't believe it."

Fred turned his head. "I know. You were a total _muppet_ for betting against Finch."

"Screw you, mate. I meant the whole George asking Iris out thingy."

Fred paused to put his winnings carefully in his pocket. "What's so hard to believe? They fancy each other."

"Yes, Fred. Thank you. I believe we've all cleared up the fact that George and Iris have got it hot for one another." Answered Lee sarcastically.

"You're just a bad loser."

"Mate, can you blame me?"

Fred found that he couldn't.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Well, that's the fifth chapter! (I had a different ending so that it was longer, but I couldn't make it fit properly, so it got ditched. I hope this ending is all right.)

Anyway, sorry about THIS delay, but I was at my cousins house for the week, as well as the fact that I have other fanfictions, but . . . anyway . . .

I hope you liked this! R&R! Next chapter in blueprint as we speak! Catch you on the flip side, baby.

LoL,

Hatheny.


End file.
